The Spider's Sin
by sehnsuct
Summary: James Moriarty, the infamous consulting criminal, lies in wait, continuing the management of his criminal network, just after Sherlock reveals his survival. When he learns that an old girlfriend has died and left him a young and angry daughter, he begins to plot the usefulness of his new asset.
1. Chapter 1

He sat behind his desk, bent over the smart phone in his hands. His dark eyes darted down the screen, scanning the headline that read "CONSULTING DETECTIVE FAKES DEATH". He laughed to himself. Well, he had gotten away with it too. Jim Moriarty would reveal his own survival to the public as well, but he needed to wait. The right moment would present itself, sooner or later.

Jim heard footsteps and looked up. In the doorway stood Sebastian Moran, Jim's right hand man, for all intents and purposes. He stood there a moment, gripping the gun on his side tightly.

"Well," Jim said impatiently, "What is it?"

"Sir," Sebastian said hesitantly, "We've heard some news from our contacts in Dublin." He shuffled into the room and quietly shut the door. Jim gave him an impatient and frustrated look. He disliked Sebastian's nervous attitude. He proffered his men to get directly to the point, not dawdle with formalities other such nonsense. He waited for Sebastian to continue.

"Sebastian, spit it out, or I will have you thrown off of the Tower Bridge."

"Sir, our men in Dublin were contacted by a woman through your alias, Richard Brook, a few months ago. She claimed to have known you, but they did not get much else out of her. She wanted to speak with you personally."

"And this is important because?" Jim was beginning to feel suspicious about this. He never spoke about his life in Dublin. He was Richard Brook in those days, a younger and less experienced type of criminal. He had moved on since then, become the consulting criminal he was today, and cut all of his ties to Ireland.

"She died last week, some sort of accident, and left Richard Brook as her emergency contact. Her name was Allonna Doyle."

Jim froze. His face grew hot, and his thoughts clouded with memories. Allonna Doyle, that sweet young girl he had left in Dublin all those years ago. She was so soft, so easy to manipulate, it had been a pleasure for him to break her heart. Jim pondered what her death might have been like.

"She had a daughter, sir," Sebastian began nervously, "This Doyle woman left behind some daughter, Levane, and the documents we found say that her father was Richard Brook." Sebastian stopped and fumbled with his hands. Jim slowly turned in his chair and placed his phone on the desk. He looked up into Sebastian's cool grey eyes. This was not something he had anticipated. Allonna had died, leaving him some child to deal with. In Jim's mind, he saw only one possible way to handle this.

"Find her," He said, his voice quiet and even, "Find out if she's worth something." He smiled darkly.

"Yes, sir," Sebastian turned and began to leave the room.

"Wait," Jim snapped sharply, "Make sure that this is all true. If it isn't…." He paused, adjusting his cufflinks, "Get rid of her." Sebastian nodded, and marched out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Levane Doyle sat on the low stone wall in front of her school, her head bent over her book, her dark hair obscuring her eyes. She could feel him; feel his eyes on her like a gun aimed at her back. Levane had noticed him on her walk to school the day before, and seen him among the crowd of parents and friends after class. He blended in well, no doubt, but her eye had caught on him for a split-second, and her memory made note of his unfamiliar face.

She quickly glanced up from her book at the end of the street, through the crowd of students, searching. This time, she could not see him, but she could feel his eyes. She closed her book and stood up. He must be far enough away from her not to draw attention from anyone else. _What am I going to do? Call mum? _She thought bitterly. After various attempts to reach out and comfort her from her teachers, Levane had developed a deep distrust and dislike of the authority figures around her. After her mother's death was the only time anyone really noted her existence, let alone gave a thought to her feelings. This she could not forgive.

She glanced over her shoulder and stopped, carefully scanning the trees and brick walls for any movement. She saw nothing, and quickly turned the corner and made her way to her empty home.

Moran peered through the window at Levane as she walked down the street, so sure that he was not watching her. He dropped his eyes back to his computer screen. The members of Moriarty's Dublin network had graciously provided him with instructions to hack into Levane's school and hospital records, as well as an empty house to hide out in. The night before, he had used this advantage to have a sample of Levane's blood, taken as a child from the local doctor, sent to his people at a lab in London. There, they would prove, or disprove, Moriarty's relation to this girl. Moran scrolled through her marks from primary school, then secondary school. All good, though she particularly excelled at physical education. According to her instructor's notes, she seemed "over-competitive", and "feels no remorse after inflicting injuries in class." _Well, there's the first hint, _Moran thought, amused. Most of the girl's teachers were worried about her empathy skills, and suggested she receive anger-management treatment.

Moran felt his phone buzz, and pulled it from his pocket. He read the message and groaned to himself. He began to type a message to his employer.

**RESULTS FROM LAB BACK. SHE'S YOURS. –SM **He stared at he screen until the reply arrived.

**AND SO IT BEGINS. BEST PICK UP MY DEAR GIRL AND BRING HER HOME. –JM**

Moran flipped his laptop shut, strode out to his car, and drove.


	3. Chapter 3

Levane kicked the backdoor open and burst into her back garden. She shivered, pulling on her burgundy sweater over her t-shirt. She breathed deeply, trying to hold back her angry tears. She could not stand to be inside the house for long, the shadow of her mother haunted her there. Even the sight of her mother's few possessions raised dark and painful thoughts in Levane's mind. What was she supposed to do now? The local child services could not locate any living family members for her to stay with, nor could they find a foster family that would accept a child with her troubled background. They had asked her who her father was more times than she could bear, where he was, when she had last seen him.

"I don't know who he is! He left us before I was born! I've never even met the bastard!" She had struggled to keep herself from throwing the nearest object against the wall. Levane's muscles tightened at the thought of her father. Her mother had told her almost nothing about him. Her mother had once noted Levane's likeness to him, muttering that she looked too much like her dad. This puzzled Levane, but she did not trust her mother, so she turned to more reliable sources. She learned from the hospital records that the man her mother acknowledged as her father was named Richard Brook, but no matter how hard Levane searched the Irish government records online, she could find no reference to him.

Her anger somewhat abated, Levane turned back towards the house. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a shadow shift in the window overlooking the garden. She stopped, staring through the glass. Her eyes narrowed, suspicion and dread growing inside her. She slowly walked through the open door into the kitchen, her eyes scanning the unlit room. She edged into the living room and, turning, backed slowly towards the stairs. She reached her hand out to the railing on the stairs. She turned to continue up the stairway when she crashed a black mass, blocking her path. She gasped, pushing herself away from the dark figure in front of her. An arm darted forward and grabbed her wrist with uncanny strength, pulling her back to him.

"Let go, let me go now!" She screamed, pulling at her slim wrist. He made no response, only twisted her arm, subduing her with pain. Levane swung her free hand at his face, feeling her fist collide with his eye. He cried out and his grip on her loosened, giving her the chanced she needed to escape. She wrenched herself free and stumbled back into the kitchen. She heard an angry shout, and turned to see her recovered attacker lunging for her. She moved without thinking, diving onto the floor, catching herself with her hand. Her wrist screamed with pain, struggling to support her weight after sustaining the fall. The man whipped around and grabbed Levane's ankle before she could evade him. He swiftly pulled her back towards him, grabbed her injured wrist, and lifted her to her feet. Levane screamed, her mind clouded with pain and terror. She flailed her feet at her assailant, but took no notice. She opened her eyes and glimpsed his hand, holding a damp cloth, rise to her face and cover her mouth and nose. Levane inhaled to scream again, but all she produced was a weak moan. She felt her body go limp, and then her mind went black.


	4. Chapter 4

She felt her body swaying, tiny pinpricks of moisture dropping on her face. _Rain_, she realized, _it's raining on me_. Levane tried to stretch her sore muscles, and felt arms tighten around her. _I'm being carried_, she thought calmly. _That's strange_. She slowly opened her eyes, and gazed complacently around her. Her stare rest upon the shape in front of her: A large house, more grand and expensive looking than any Levane had ever seen. It loomed closer, and the immense front doors opened. Levane blinked the rain from her eyes, observing the slow movement of the doors. A figure appeared on the threshold, as if to greet Levane and the stranger carrying her. She squinted at him to bring him into focus, but her eyes could not adjust to the light reflecting off of his bright suit.

"Ooh, what a pretty thing," The voice was unfamiliar, soft.

"Yeah, she's got your eyes," Replied her captor darkly, his arms relaxing slightly. Levane looked up into the new man's face, puzzled. _They are my eyes, not his._

"Bring her in," He smiled. His face faded, and Levane resigned to unconsciousness.

Levane awoke with a start, pushing herself up quickly. Her wrist protested with pain, forcing her to collapse back onto the bed. Moaning, she cradled her injured wrist against her chest. She rolled onto her side, and gazed at her surroundings. Levane lay on large bed in the center of a bright, room. Though few, the furnishings looked expensive: a carved wood bed frame, a wardrobe, and an ornate mirror on the wall. She sat up slowly, and peered through the window at the far end of the room. Sloping hills dotted with trees, glazed in early morning sunlight. She saw no brick buildings or cars like she was used to. _Where the hell am I? _She felt fear creeping into her heart. She put her head in hands, and her face grew hot. The image of her attacker flashed before her eyes, followed by the blurred face of another man.

Levane heard a click and glanced at the door. It unlocked, and swung open. In the doorframe stood her black clad attacker, a gun at his hip, his eye bruised and slightly swollen. Levane stood up quickly, but before she could take a step forward, he had his gun in hand and pointed at her head.

"Not a move," He muttered angrily. "Sit." Levane sat back on the bed, not taking her eyes off of the barrel of his gun. He lowered it from her head to the floor, and then moved away from the door to make way for another man. He strode into the room, his hands in the pockets of his steel-grey suit. His dark eyes met hers immediately, stunning her with their endless depth and darkness. _She's got your eyes. _The voice echoed in her head, spreading the fear from her heart to her stiff limbs.

"Hello, my dear," He cooed. He sauntered towards Levane, and stood directly in front of her, blocking her path to the door. The door clicked shut, and her gun-wielding kidnapper positioned himself in the corner, his eyes locked on Levane.

"I…" Levane stammered, glancing back and forth between the two men's faces, "I don't-"

"Ah, yes. You two have met, " The suited man laughed, pointing at the man behind him. "This is my faithful employee, Mr. Moran." He smiled darkly, "I call him Sebastian." Sebastian smirked behind him.

"You are probably wondering why you are here. Of course, I don't blame you," He pulled a phone from his pocket and tapped the screen distractedly.

"I had our friend Sebastian collect you for me. See, I knew your mum. You could say Allonna and I were pretty close," He glanced back at Levane, carefully examining her features. Levane stiffened at the mention of her mother.

"You see, when your mum went and died on you, I decided I would pick up where she left off!" He smiled, as if this was supposed to be a comforting thought. Levane inhaled sharply.

"Who are you? Why am I here?" She spat her questions at him venomously, glaring into his eyes. He rolled his eyes and addressed Sebastian behind him.

"She's a bit slow, isn't she?" He whispered loudly. He turned back to Levane, his expression one of dark, sadistic amusement.

"Jim Moriarty," he grinned. "But you can call me dad."

Levane's heart stopped. Her eyes dropped to the floor.

"My father," She choked, "was named Richard Brook." Jim laughed.

"Then tell me, dear, have you ever found any record of the existence of Richard Brook?" She shook her head, lost for words.

"I didn't think so," He chided.

Jim Moriarty, she thought. A bell chimed in her head.

"I've read about you," Jim raised his eyebrows. "You are that psychopath Sherlock Holmes beat in London."

"_I _beat _him_!" Jim shouted. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Ordinary Sherlock," He whined. He closed the gap between them and crouched, inches away from her face. "Mention him again, and you will regret it." Levane nodded. Jim straightened and headed for the door.

"He called you a spider," Levane muttered accusingly. He turned, his icy gaze cutting into her.

"Are you afraid of spiders, love?"

"No," she answered, "But I don't mind killing them."

"Good," He smiled, and swept out of the room. Sebastian followed, locking the door behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

The sun had set and risen again before Levane saw either of her captors. She had kept awake most of the night, imagining all of the possible outcomes of her situation. She drifted off near dawn, exhausted of her strength. She was jolted from her sleep in the early hours of the morning by a banging on the door. She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The door clicked and opened, revealing Sebastian's massive form.

"Out," He grumbled. "And don't try anything."

Levane obeyed, passing through the door. Sebastian gripped her arm tightly, avoiding her sprained wrist, and led her down the hallway. Levane submitted weakly, matching his quick stride. He pulled open a door at the end of a bright, widow-lit hallway and pushed her inside. Levane blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light.

She stood in a study, well lit from tall windows, paintings hung on the walls, a desk at the far end. Sitting behind the desk, his face intently focused on his phone, was Jim Moriarty. He glanced up at Levane as she entered, smiling wickedly.

"I am sure you are famished," He taunted, gesturing at a tray on his desk. Levane stared at it blankly. It was true, she was starving. She had not eaten since lunch the day she was taken. Jim noted her hesitation and frowned.

"Eat something, or I will have Sebastian force it down your throat." Levane glared at him. She didn't doubt him; she had a feeling that he would keep his word. She sat in the chair near his desk and pulled the tray closer to her. She skimmed over her choices, eggs, sausage, and grabbed a piece of buttered toast. Jim watched her eat, his cold eyes scanning her face. He waited until she had finished before he spoke.

"Where should we start, love?" He looked at Levane expectantly. She met his eyes, searching for some hidden message.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, we have so many options, you see," He answered, clapping his hands together excitedly. "You will be a beautiful addition to my little entourage, I just want you to be happy in the line of work you will choose!"

Levane stared at him, incredulous.

"My line of work?" She glanced at Sebastian, stationed by the door. "What, you mean like what he does? Following you around, kidnapping teenagers?" Jim laughed to himself.

"Oh, Sebastian does much more than that. He's quite the accomplished sniper, ex-military man you know." He leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk.

"If you want to survive, you should consider accepting my offer, and feel lucky that I am giving you a choice at all." His eyes glinted menacingly. Levane felt her face growing hot.

"Giving me a choice?" She scoffed. "You kidnapped me, you are holding me captive, and you want me to feel lucky?" Her voice rose, her anger coursing through her veins. "You want me to join your criminal club, just like that? Who do you think I am?" She stood up aggressively, knocking her chair to the floor. Sebastian took a step forward, but Jim held up his hand, stopping him. He rose from his chair. His eyes bore into Levane's, piercing her with cold fury. His excited smile gone, he stepped around his desk. He loomed over her, crushing her boldness with his dominance.

"You are my daughter," He stated matter-of-factly. "You may not like it, but you will learn to live with it, or you won't live at all!" His lips spread in a sickening smile. He waved Sebastian over. Jim turned, making his way back to his chair behind the desk. Levane felt Sebastian's vice-like hand close around her arm, pulling her roughly towards the desk.

"Make her understand, Sebastian," Jim winked, "Bring her back when she can be a good girl." He looked back down at his phone, ignoring Levane's cries of protest as Sebastian dragged her from the room.

Sebastian pushed her roughly into her room, slamming the door behind him. Levane whipped around to face him, throwing her arms at his face. He ducked and caught her wrists.

"Stop this now!" He ordered, holding her arms between them as a barrier. Levane struggled angrily. Sebastian squeezed tighter, twisting her arms outward. Levane's wrists throbbed with pain. His knee crushed into her stomach.

"Ok!" She cried out. "Just let go!" He released her and backed away. Levane knelt to the floor, struggling to hold back her tears. Sebastian moved closer, and crouched in front of her. Levane's eye fell on his gun. She wondered how easy it would be for her to wrench it from his holster and end this once and for all.

"I'm going to give you some advice girl," He wove his fingers together in front of him. "How old are you?" Levane lifted her eyes from his weapon.

"I'm 17." Their eyes met.

"Then you are old enough to understand your situation well enough. Jim Moriarty does not take rejection well." He stood up. Before reaching the door, he turned back to Levane.

"If you want to survive this, you've got to accept who you are, and who he is. He will not just let you go."

Levane pulled her legs up to her chest, resting her forehead on her knees. When she looked up again, Sebastian was gone. Levane breathed deeply. He was right. Jim Moriarty was not going to simply set her free. Accepting who she was could be the only way to proceed. Levane rose from the floor and turned to the mirror. She looked at her eyes, her slanted eyebrows. She brushed a lock of her raven hair behind her ear. She saw him, lurking in the shadows of her features, closer to the surface around her lips, her hair. The same cold anger she had witnessed that day, echoing in her own eyes.

"Levane," She muttered, "I am Levane Moriarty."


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm ready", She yelled through the door. "Sebastian!" She hammered the door with her fist until the locked clicked. Sebastian glowered through the opening.

"I'm ready. Take me too him." She pushed past him boldly, her hands clenched into fists.

Jim was at his desk, playing with his knife distractedly, when the door flew open and Levane stormed into the room.

"I'm ready." He looked up at her, expressionless. She waited, motionless, as he stood and approached her. He examinined every inch of her face for hints of deception. His soft hand gently gripped her chin, pulling her face upwards. He stared into her eyes for an eternity before he released her. His eyes widened and a devilish smile crept across his face.

"Well then, my dear," He lifted an open hand, into which Sebastian placed a black pistol. "Shall we begin?" He offered the weapon to her. She took it without hesitation.

"It would be my pleasure." He took her arm in his, led her out of the study, and through the front doors.

Levane squinted at the target, her father's pistol in her hands. She aimed carefully, squeezing the trigger. The gun fired, making her jump. The bullet grazed the corner of the target. Levane frowned. She turned and looked at her father. Jim's eyes were hidden by his sunglasses, and his lips were pursed in displeasure. Her eyebrows furrowed and she turned back to the target. She closed her eyes. _You won't have another chance, just do it. _The noises around her faded. Her hands relaxed around the gun. Her eyes flashed open, her finger squeezing and releasing in quick succession. Six holes ripped through the center of the target, enlarging each other in turn. Levane exhaled. She turned from the target and approached her father, handing the empty weapon to Sebastian.

"Have you ever fired a gun before?" Sebastian looked at the shredded target in disbelief.

"Never," Levane remarked dryly. She stared into her father's face, imagining the thoughts flying through his mind.

"I'm impressed," He popped a piece of gum into his mouth. "Take her back to her room, Sebastian. Give her something to eat, she's been a good girl today." He flashed his white teeth in a smile at her as Sebastian led her back into the house. She smiled to herself. For the first time in her life, Levane felt valuable.

For the next few weeks, Levane's daily life followed the same pattern: Be escorted outside by Sebastian, practice her aim, then return to her room with food. It became a twisted goal of hers to impress her father as much as she could each time. When her strength faltered and she failed to meet Jim's expectations, she was returned to her room without food. Everyday the scene was different; the targets moved farther away, and when she could hit the center without fail, they became mannequins. She fired the first shot at the figure's chest, hitting it where she assumed the heart would be. She heard her father sigh behind her.

"Aim for the head, love." She glanced at Sebastian nervously. He met her gaze and nodded reassuringly. Levane altered her stance, raised her gun, and fired the remaining 14 bullets into the mannequin's foam head.

"Better?" She removed the magazine and tossed it to Sebastian.

"Oh yes!" Jim pulled off his sunglasses and pointed at the mannequin. "Shoot him in the head and there's no saving him. You destroy their ordinary little minds. It's more fun that way!" He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small black box.

"Try these." He removed the lid, revealing a set of glittering knives. Levane bit her lip.

"Throwing knives?" She lifted one by its handle and examined it. She balanced the blade on her hand. Levane formed her stance and relaxed her shoulders. With a flash of motion, the knife flew through the air and pierced the mannequin's chest, through the bullet hole over its heart. Jim burst into laughter.

"Oh my dear, you are fantastic!" He strode over to the dummy and wrenched the knife free. "That's quite an arm you've got there!" He winked. Levane blushed and rubbed her arm nervously. She wasn't used to such unrestrained praise. Sebastian patted her shoulder roughly.

"Well done, miss." Levane mumbled a thank you. Her father spun around, his devilish smile spreading across his face.

"Take her back inside Sebastian, and give her some of those new clothes I bought." He gently placed his hand on Levane's cheek.

"I want you to look your prettiest tonight, we will have a guest for dinner." He winked, patted her face softly, and strutted back into the house.


	7. Chapter 7

The shower was most welcome so long without one. Gripping her towel tightly against her body, Levane looked skeptically at the clothes Sebastian had given her: A soft, black t-shirt, a pair of dark pants, and dark brown boots. _Beggars cant be choosers I suppose._ She dressed herself quickly and found Sebastian waiting in the hall. He nodded at her and made an attempt at a smile. He led her down the hall to a part of the house she hadn't seen. He showed her into a lavish dining room. The full-length table was set for a dozen people, but only two places were occupied. At the head of the table, Jim was leaning back in his chair, his legs crossed and his eyes on the floor. In the chair next to him was a woman. Levane blinked in surprise. It had been weeks since she had seen anyone besides Sebastian and her father. The woman's attention shifted from Jim to Levane.

"You didn't tell me how pretty she is, Jim," She chastised, standing. Levane blushed and looked at the floor, her hair falling in front of her face.

"Don't hide dear," The woman cooed, "I don't bite." Her blood-red lips parted in a knowing smile. Uncomfortable, Levane glanced at her father.

"Levane, my dear, this is Irene Adler," Jim introduced. "A dear friend of mine."

Irene took Levane's hand and pulled her to the table.

"Sit with me, love. I want to get to know you." Jim rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. Irene peered at Levane's face.

"She has your eyes, Jim," She teased. "You should wear a bit of makeup, show them off." Levane was beginning to feel very self-conscious.

"I don't have any makeup," She admitted quietly.

"You poor dear, I will have that fixed straight away." She looked at Jim expectantly. His eyes widened defensively. Then, sighing, he nodded.

"There dear. Powers of persuasion." Irene laughed quietly and sipped some wine from the glass in front of her. Levane was dumbstruck. How could this woman get Jim to agree to something just by looking at him? She stared at Irene, searching for hints of whatever it was that made her special. Irene took no notice.

"Soon we will have all the boys chasing after you. They won't stand a chance!"

"I'll burn anyone that tries," Jim muttered. Levane stared at him in confusion. Where was this coming from? Was this a newfound sense of fatherly protection, or greed over a favorite toy? Goosebumps crept up Levane's arms. Irene produced a phone from her bag on the table.

"I have a tidbit of information you may be interested in," She looked at Jim from under her dark eyelashes. She unlocked the phone and scrolled her thumb down the screen.

"What have you heard about the Holmes boys lately?" Irene smiled darkly.

"The ice-man or the virgin?" Jim smirked. Levane could sense Jim's irritation in his voice and see it in his tight muscles.

"I have heard some interesting things about the ice-man lately," Irene placed her phone on the table and slid it to Jim. "I learned a bit about what Mycroft is up too." Jim took the phone and studied it carefully.

"You know someone in Mycroft Holmes's circle?" He raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"I know what he likes," Irene explained casually, "and he had no problem telling me all about that." She eyed the phone in Jim's hands and smiled. He frowned.

"Impressive," He slid the phone back to Irene. "But what's the price?"

"Protection. But do a better job than Mycroft. When I trusted him I almost ended up decapitated."

"Naughty girl," Jim laughed. "Alright, it's a deal." They stood and shook hands. Levane stood quickly, uncertain of her place in the situation. Irene faced her and grasped her hands tightly.

"It has been a pleasure, Levane." Her eyes scanned Levane's face, then her plain clothes. "We will have to find you something better than that, won't we?" Confused, Levane squeezed Irene's hand weakly.

"A pleasure, Miss Adler."

"I'll be in touch, love." Giving Levane's hand a final squeeze, Irene turned back to Jim. "Have fun with that. I know how much you like to cause trouble."

"Always." He winked. Sebastian opened the door, and she was gone. Jim clapped his hands together and smiled.

"Well, that was fun! What did you think of her? Marvelous isn't she?" Jim was more excited than Levane had ever seen him. She smiled in spite of herself.

"She was nice. I liked her."

"I thought you might." He giggled childishly. "Did you know that she beat Sherlock Holmes too?"

Levane shook her head. "He must not be very impressive, if both of you beat him." Jim laughed loudly, and his voice went up an octave.

"Ah, yes! Ordinary Sherlock, bested by a dominatrix." He rubbed his hands together thoughtfully. "Take her back Sebastian, and give her some dinner." His phone beeped. He glanced at the message briefly. "And pack up your things, we are leaving tomorrow."

"Leaving where?" Levane began to feel nervous. Something had changed.

"We are going to London! It will be like a little family holiday." He smiled, a little too much, and pushed Levane out of the dining room.


	8. Chapter 8

Sebastian tossed Levane a small overnight bag from across the room.

"This is yours, it's got some clothes and stuff in it." She peeked inside, and found a few t-shirts, pants, a toothbrush, and a hairbrush.

"Lovely," She muttered bitterly. "Why are we going to London? What did that woman show him that got him so excited?" Sebastian rubbed his nose tiredly.

"I would be careful about how many questions you ask. If Jim wanted you to know, he would tell you." He lifted his own bag and gestured towards the door impatiently. "Best not keep him waiting, he has a jet waiting for us."

"He isn't coming?"

"He will meet us there. He flew in overnight to make the necessary arrangements."

Sebastian drove them to a private airport in a dark car with tinted windows. _Of course he has a private jet, _she mused,_ how posh. _When they arrived,Levane stowed her bag under her seat, then waited quietly, marveling at the luxury of the plane. She looked out the window sadly, wondering if she would ever see Ireland again. She had never even left Dublin before Jim had found her. Levane turned to address Sebastian, and felt a needle plunge into her neck.

"Son of a bitch!" She cried. She tried to lunge at him, but her body failed her and she collapsed back into her seat. Her eyes closed slowly, and her mind went blank.

Her senses returned slowly, inch by inch, before she could open her eyes and flex her muscles. She was in a situation similar to the last time she awoke from a drug induced slumber: lying on a bed, in an unfamiliar room. However, this time the room was heaped with shopping bags. Levane rubbed her eyes and slid off the bed. She reached into one of the bags and pulled out a bright red strapless dress.

"What the hell?" She slid another bag closer to her and found a pair of black high heels. _Oh my god, what is this?_ Levane tore through the rest of the bags, finding makeup, necklaces, blouses, dresses, shoes, and bags, all in shades of grey, black, white, and red. Stunned, Levane scanned the mess of tissue paper and fabric around her, and noticed the last bag, near the door. Pinned onto the white paper was a black envelope, with her name scrawled across the front in gold ink. She ripped it open and removed the note inside:

_Levane,_

_I thought you might want something better than those drab rags your father gave you. You have everything you will ever need here. If you ever need me, I am only a text away._

_Irene_

Levane refolded the paper carefully and slid it into her pocket. She rose from the floor and reached for the doorknob, expecting it to be locked. The door opened easily. She swallowed nervously. She knew well enough that nothing Jim did was an accident, so the door must have been unlocked for a reason. She was in a small apartment, with bright white walls and polished wood floors. She walked down the stairs, preparing herself for the worst. At the bottom, she heard Jim and Sebastian's voices emanating from the kitchen. She rounded the corner cautiously and hesitated before them. Jim was seated at the round kitchen table with Sebastian, reading a newspaper that almost totally obscured his face. Sebastian was intently focused on the rifle in his lap, his fingers deftly adjusting the scope. Levane cleared her throat loudly. The two men glanced up at her. Jim smiled.

"Ah, Sleeping Beauty has awoken." He turned the page of his newspaper.

"No thanks to you," She replied bitterly. Jim rolled his eyes.

"Did Irene leave all those things for me?" Levane slipped her hand into her pocket and rubbed Irene's letter with her thumb.

"Yes, she did," Jim sang. "She is going to spoil you." Sebastian laughed but was silenced by a glare from Jim. He returned his attention to his newspaper. "Sit down."

Levane glared at him but obeyed. She sat down in the last empty chair, facing the two men, and crossed her arms. She watched Sebastian fiddling with his gun. He loaded the magazine and snapped it into place.

"What's that for?" She asked, raising her eyebrows. Sebastian rose and slung the weapon over his shoulder. He looked at Jim, who folded his newspaper and tossed it carelessly behind him.

"I have a new client," Jim droned, "I want you to take care of this bit of business."

"A client?" Levane uncrossed her arms and leaned forward. "You want me to _take care of it_?" Levane laughed. "I am pretty sure I am the last person you want doing your criminal business."

"I am sure that what you meant to say was that you would be honored, since I am allowing you to keep breathing." His face hardened. Levane nodded, and he smirked.

"A client has requested that we arrange the removal of all information concerning him from government and public records. You, my dear, will accompany Sebastian. He has all of the little know-hows needed to get the job done."

"What do I need to do? I don't know anything about computers." Levane was not sure what Jim was getting at.

"Just help the lad out," Jim half-smiled. "I trust you will find some way to be useful. Your life depends on it!" Jim bit his lip to stifle laughter and stood from his chair. "Sebastian will get you what you need." He checked the time on his phone. "I'd better be off. Good luck!" He put on his coat with a flourish and sauntered from the room. Levane's blood went cold. This was her first real chance to prove herself in Jim's game. She glanced at Sebastian, who was searching through the kitchen drawers. He held out a small pistol for her.

"How do you feel about Glocks?" Levane took the gun from him and examined it closely, gauging its weight in her hand.

"Just fine." Sebastian half-smiled and tossed her the Glock's filled magazine. She slid it into place and placed the gun on the table.

"I want my knives, as well."

"I thought you might say that." Sebastian pulled the familiar black box from his jacket pocket. "You can have this as well." He tossed her the box, along with a black leather holster belt. She smiled. Standing up, Levane slid the Glock into the holster, and fastened six knives into their places.

This time, Sebastian allowed Levane to remain conscious during travel. She did not pay much attention to where they were going; instead, she sat in the passenger seat and admired one of her knives. As Sebastian drove, he described the plan of action to Levane: "First, we wait outside of the building until everyone is gone. No one will be there by the time we get inside, so we shouldn't have to worry about interference. I will take care of the computers, you just keep a look out, and keep yourself out of trouble." Levane nodded, her eyes still locked on the shining blade. "You will not touch anything. If you leave any fingerprints, I will leave you behind."

"Fine," Levane muttered. "How do you plan on getting rid of someone's entire history from one computer? Won't this sort of thing be in a lot of different places?"

"I've been given software that can access any computer and destroy anything associated with any particular person."

"And how did you come across that?" Levane questioned dryly.

"Your father has a very wide circle."

"So it would seem."

Sebastian parked the car across from New Scotland Yard, down the street but close enough to watch workers entering and leaving the building. They watched the flow of Londoners for the next few hours, Sebastian clicking away on his phone, and Levane twisting her hair absent-mindedly. As darkness fell, Levane began to feel more anxious. She toyed with one of her knives, running her finger along the blade softly. When the last of the workers left the building and the lights shut off, Sebastian tapped her arm and nodded his head at her. They slipped silently out of the car and across the street.

Levane would have expected that breaking into Scotland Yard would be somewhat difficult, but apparently being the most powerful criminal in Europe even included infiltration of the Metropolitan police. When they had made their way to the back entrance of the building, away from any prying eyes, they found the security checkpoint unlocked and unattended.

"Jim has connections here too?" Levane smiled mockingly.

"You would be surprised," Sebastian muttered.

They navigated silently through the building, Sebastian leading Levane through hallways and up staircases. On one of the uppermost floors, Sebastian approached a large metal door and pushed on it delicately. It swung open silently, revealing an enormous executive office. Computer screens almost completely obscured the desk, which was surrounded by filing cabinets and bookshelves. Sebastian pushed Levane against the wall.

"Stay put." He situated himself behind the desk and pulled a memory stick from his pocket. He plugged it into one of the monitors and began to type, his eyes intent on the screen. Levane sighed and leaned against the wall. She peeked through the doorframe, then back at Sebastian, completely absorbed in his task. Levane took her chance and slipped out of the room. She peered down the dark hallway and blinked as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. A shadow shifted in the corner of her eye. She took a few steps forward, her hand reaching for her holstered gun. She waited, and nothing moved. Levane continued forward and stared out a window. Light from the cars outside made the shadows glide across her face eerily. Her heartbeat slowed. _It's just the stupid cars, _she scolded herself. She raised her hand to brush back her hair. A sharp blow contacted her lower back, and she dropped to her knees in pain. She flung her arms behind her, grasping fabric and pulling. With a muffled grunt, a man fell to the floor behind her. Levane struggled to her feet, grasping her throbbing back, and made for the office. A hand gripped her ankle tightly, pulling her back to the floor.

"Sebastian!" She screamed hoarsely, kicking her legs violently. Her hand flew to her side, ripping the gun from its place. She pushed herself away from the shadowed form, her back pressing against the wall. The figure jumped from the floor towards her, the light from the window illuminating his face. Levane raised her gun and fired four bullets into his forehead.


	9. Chapter 9

Blood pooled at Levane's feet. The black stain expanded around the head until it touched her boot. She stared at it, her body going numb. A hand gripped her arm and lifted her from the floor. A scream tore from her throat but was stifled by a hand over her mouth. Sebastian twisted her wrist until her hand released the gun and it clattered to the floor.

"Calm down. Just breath, ok? We need to leave." He pulled her towards the exit, but she resisted.

"Did you do it?" The color had drained from her face, but her voice was agitated and demanding. "Did you do what we came for?" Sebastian stared at her blankly, then nodded. Levane sighed in relief and bent down to retrieve her gun. She tried to fit it into her holster, but her hands shook too violently. Sebastian swiped the gun from her and tucked it into his waistband. He stood still and stared at her for a moment. Levane avoided his gaze; she could not look away from the corpse on the floor. It struck her as strange that she was not vomiting on the floor or crying like people did in the movies. The limp body on the floor was just that, a body. Something in Levane stirred. Deep inside her, she felt more like herself, more exhilarated than she ever had before.

Levane met Sebastian's eyes, her lips spreading into a terrified smile. He grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her away from the body. She stumbled along behind him, half laughing and half crying. Her surroundings blurred behind her tears. Minutes turned into seconds, and they were out of the building. Sebastian lifted her into the car and strapped her in himself. He peeled from the street corner, navigating the narrow streets with little difficulty. Mere seconds passed before she was being dragged from the car again. Her hysterical laughter echoed through the empty streets. The front door of the flat opened and the light spilling from it overcame her. Levane's knees went limp and she collapsed on the floor. Muffled voices filled the room, escalating to incoherent shouts. Levane looked up and saw her father, smiling down at her. She felt like a child, about to be chastised for getting into a fight at school. She stood shakily and braced herself for her father's wrath.

"Did you have a bit too much fun?" He snickered. Levane dropped her eyes to the floor. Jim gripped her chin and pulled her face up sharply. "Answer me." Levane swatted at his hand and missed. He pinched tighter.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"YES!" She screamed. He released her. She backed away from him and raised her hands defensively. "I enjoyed it! Are you happy? I put four bullets in his head! I have never felt that way before, and I _liked it_!" She looked at Jim, waiting for him to show some sort of fear or revulsion, but he did not. She turned and gaped at Sebastian. His face had turned to stone. She could read nothing in his face but detachment, as if he was trying his hardest to distance himself. Jim spun on his heel, laughing.

"Welcome to the club!" He snapped his fingers, and Sebastian prodded her gently towards the stairs. Her breath left her in a choked sigh. She leaned against Sebastian's side for support and slowly ascended the stairs.

After Levane's first mission, Jim rarely appeared in the flat. When he did, it was only to eat or speak with Sebastian disappearing again. During these absences, Levane had to struggle to entertain herself. Leaving the flat was out of the question; the doors and windows were locked and sealed, and Sebastian kept a watchful eye on her, usually with his gun at his side. He spent most of his time in the living room, watching the news and cleaning his guns. Two days after the Scotland Yard incident, Levane walked into the living room, a news report on the break-in blaring from the television; "Investigators have found the body of Sergey Novikov, notorious Russian assassin, shot through the head in the upper floors of New Scotland Yard. Authorities suspect that he was involved in a break-in that ended badly, and resulted in his death. No weapons were found on his body." Blood rushed to Levane's head.

"You said you were doing that for a client. _He said _it was for a client." Sebastian turned in his chair and furrowed his eyebrows. He rested his gun on his knee and plucked his cigarette from his mouth.

"Speak up girl."

"You told me that no one was supposed to be there, and then some _Russian assassin _shows up and ambushes me in the hall? What the hell is this?" Sebastian dropped his cigarette on the floor and ground it with his foot. He looked at the floor and pinched his nose between his fingers.

"Sebastian!" Her frustration was overflowing. "Whose information were you destroying? Why was that guy there? Why did I have to kill him?!" The last question tore from her throat in an anguished plea. He regarded her with a sort of pitying annoyance.

"Jim thought that this would be a good test for you. I don't think he intended for you to find out this way."

"What, that he sent in a hit-man to test me? What was the point?"

"It is my understanding that he wished to rid himself of a troublesome employee." Levane gaped at him. He explained this to her so casually, so matter-of-factly, it caught her off guard.

"And the computer? Who's information were you erasing?"

"I was deleting any digitized references and records of James Moriarty and Richard Brook." He picked up his gun and began disassembling it.

"Oh I see!" Levane's voice dripped with sarcasm. "He thought he would just kill two birds with one stone, right? Wipe himself off the map, get rid of the Russian, and test my family love for murder! Isn't he clever!" She spun around to storm from the room and collided with fabric and muscle. Her eyes met his, and widened in terror. Jim grabbed her arm and twisted it around her back. Levane cried out in pain and surprise. Pushing her forward, Jim forced her against the wall and twisted her arm cruelly.

"Yes, it was clever wasn't it?" He leaned against her back. His weight forced her face into the wall. She tried to turn her head and felt her skin scrape, hot blood dripping down her face.

"Very clever," Levane groaned into the wall.

"Sorry, what was that? I can't hear you, dear." He leaned in closer. She could feel his breath on her neck, sending goose bumps down her spine.

"It was very clever," Her face contorted in pain. He squeezed her arm, twisting it more than she could bear.

"Father!" Her scream ripped from her throat in anger and pain. He released her arm and retreated a few steps. Levane leaned against the wall weakly and wiped the dripping blood from her cheek. She glared at the stain on her hand, then at her father. Jim straightened his tie.

"Shame to scuff up such a pretty face. You look so much like your mother." His eyes scanned her body. He frowned. "You act like her too."

"I am nothing like my mother," Levane spat. Glimpses of her mother's face flashed in her mind, soft, sweet, and stupid.

"Then prove it," Jim dared.

"Then let me." Jim eyed her thoughtfully. His slender eyebrows arched in contemplation and his head twisted to the side, like a snake eyeing its prey.

"Alright," He consented. His excitement crept back into his smile. "Sebastian, what do you say we introduce Levane to Mr. Moore, eh?" Sebastian raised his eyebrows skeptically, and then nodded.

"See you tomorrow, dearest." Jim winked, then swept through the door into the darkened street.


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning, Sebastian and Levane rose before the sun, and made their way through London. He drove quickly, weaving through the mazes of tall buildings towards the outskirts of the city. He parked behind an abandoned concrete. He led her inside without a word, unlocking door after door with key codes and passwords. At a large industrial metal door, Sebastian stopped and regarded Levane.

"When you go in there, do everything Jim says," His voice was low and warning. "Do not speak, to Jim or anyone else. Whatever he says, just do it." Levane nodded silently. If Sebastian had to warn her, Levane was sure what was going to happen would be unpleasant. Sebastian slid the door open, and Levane entered. The door shut behind her, sealing her inside. She heard a low moan, and fixed her attention on the shape in the center of the room.

A man sat bound to a chair in the otherwise empty room. His skin was pale and gaunt, his clothes seemed expensive, but were stained with sweat and dirt. His head hung limply over his chest, moaning quietly. Levane felt a hand rest on her shoulder.

"Good morning, dear." Jim stood next to her and gazed at the stranger. "This is Mr. Moore. Mr. Moore, meet my daughter." With some effort, the man lifted his head and squinted at Levane.

"What? I don't-" Jim cut him off with a clap of his hands.

"So shall we get started?" He leaned against the wall lazily. "If it isn't to much trouble, I would like to know what you do for Mycroft Holmes." Moore's face turned ashen.

"I don't know what you are talking about." Jim sighed loudly.

"Levane, would you mind?" He nodded at Moore suggestively. Levane clenched her fists apprehensively. She looked at Moore, who gaped at her in terror. Then it clicked. She nodded to herself and inhaled deeply. She stood before Moore, her feet inches from his own. Her eyes drifted around Moore's face and torso. Adrenaline surged through her body. Her fist contacted his cheek before she knew what was happening. Moore's head flew to the side and he cried out in pain. Jim burst into fits of hysterical laughter.

"Good!" Jim clapped behind her. "Very good!" He wandered aimlessly around the room. "Now tell me Mr. Moore, besides fetch tea and cakes, what is it that you do for Mycroft Holmes?" Moore gritted his teeth.

"I act as an intermediary for him, a negotiator."

"And who do you negotiate with?" Jim smiled, his eyes wide. Moore's jaw set firmly. Jim threw back his head.

"Levane!" Levane swung her fists with a wild ecstasy she had never experienced before. Blood spurted from Moore's nose and splattered across his shirt. The hot liquid smeared across Levane's knuckles.

"Magnussen!" Moore choked. His arms strained against his restraints. Levane's arm stopped midair. Jim scrutinized Moore, his dark eyes probing for deceit. "Charles Magnussen." His head dropped back to his chest in defeat. Jim's eyes widened. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and paced the room. Levane lowered her arm slowly. _Magnussen?_

"Why?" Jim's eyes clouded darkly, his curiosity peaking. "What would Mycroft want from Magnussen?" When Moore remained silent, Jim growled in frustration. Levane slammed her arm down on Moore's hand, feeling the bones crack against the wooden armrest. He screamed in agony, kicking at his restraints wildly. Levane stepped behind him quickly and smashed his other hand. He screamed again, then whimpered in quiet suffering. Jim watched with him, and expression of vague disgust plain in his features. A muffled whisper escaped Moore's lips.

"What was that?" Jim leaned towards Moore sarcastically. "Didn't quite pick that up."

"Magnussen. He has all of the files." He flexed his hand and winced.

"All of the information concerning…what?" Jim placed his hand on Moore's and leaned on it, his weight pushing on Moore's shattered bones.

"Everyone!" Jim bit his lip and pushed harder, producing a sickening cracking sound from Moore's hands. "I mean it! Everyone! Anyone important, he knows about them!" Jim removed his hand and narrowed his eyes. Moore sighed with relief. "Any person of power, importance, or influence, Magnussen has all of the information on them. Everything he needs to blackmail his way to success." Moore scoffed with distaste. "He is a cold man. Mycroft recognizes his position and understands the threat. It is my job to keep Magnussen happy and try to negotiate deals that do not damage the crown too much."

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Moore," Jim mumbled. He ran a hand through his hair thoughtfully. Levane shifted her weight uncomfortably. Jim caught her eye and nodded towards the door.

"You can go." Levane nodded and backed to the door slowly. She knocked softly. The door swung open slowly, and Sebastian swept in. The door swung shut behind her. Levane hesitated, alone and unsure. A single muffled gunshot rang through the metal, followed by a peal of laughter. Levane swallowed her fear and smiled, leaning against the wall in relief and satisfaction. The door opened again and Jim strutted out. He glanced at her as he passed and smiled gleefully.

"Well done, my dear, well done." He pulled his phone from his pocket dialed a number. He sang instructions into the microphone, but Levane didn't listen. Her blood surged through her, laced with adrenaline and pride. He was pleased with her, and that was all that mattered. She brushed her hair from her face, smearing Moore's blood on her skin, and followed Jim and Sebastian back to the car.


	11. Chapter 11

10 days later

She waited, alone, in the harshly lit parlor, waiting to be summoned through the door before her. Levane was keenly aware of the cameras watching her, and straightened her charcoal dress self-consciously. It was one of the many garments Irene had left her, one of the more tame pieces. The fabric was soft on her skin and the bold color gave her a strengthening sense of confidence she had never felt before. Jim had chosen the dress from the heap of tissue wrapped cloth, wishing for her to make a lasting impression on his clients. Jim was very particular about how she looked. He made it perfectly clear that Levane must appear older than her seventeen years, but still retain her youth and haunting beauty. He also requested that she "be a tad dangerous" and wear the almost darkest of red lipsticks to complete the look.

The door opened and Levane stoop up slowly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I am not used to being kept waiting," She said, addressing the client as he entered his parlor.

"My apologies, miss, I did not intend to keep you in here for so long, I only wished to ensure our privacy." He gestured through the door to his study and Levane proceeded in. He closed the door behind him, latching it tightly with several complicated locks. Levane counted them, and then assessed her exits. Sebastian had given her detailed instructions to follow should her safety or secrecy be compromised, mostly involving various ways to dispose of witnesses and escape without detection.

"Please, sit, and we can discuss our-" He waved to a chair near his desk and hesitated, "Agreement." He smiled and leaned on his desk, towering over Levane's small form. She stared up at him, willing herself to seem older, more confident, and more threatening than she felt.

"Mr. Davies, correct?" He nodded. "What is it that I can do for you?"

"What may I call you miss?" He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Catherine," She answered. The lie tasted strange on her tongue, but she felt strong in her deceit.

"Well then, Catherine, I was hoping to seek the services of your employer. If I may ask, why is he not here today?"

"You may ask, but I may choose not to answer." Levane smiled. "Mr. Moriarty regrets that he is not able to meet with you today, but hopes that I will be able to arrange an agreement." Davies smirked and produced a file from his desk and handed it to Levane.

"Very well. There is a journalist who lives in North London who has been giving me some trouble, making wild accusations about my business practices."

"All false, of course." Levane glanced up from the file, noting Davies' uncomfortable expression. He said nothing. She returned her attention the file in her hands. It contained a wide array of documents, mostly photographs of the journalist, her home address, and the layout of her flat. "Kitty Riley," Levane muttered to herself.

"Yes," Davies muttered. "She has contacted me and informed me that she has information that could potentially damage my company's reputation, as well as land me in prison." He scowled as he spoke, his eyes growing dark with anger.

"So you would like the information destroyed." Levane paused and toyed with the corner of a photo. "And Kitty Riley disposed of?" She stared at him expectantly.

"Precisely," He clasped his hands together. Levane flipped the file closed and stood, facing Mr. Davies.

"Expect contact from us soon, Mr. Davies. This matter will be dealt with within the week." She held her hand out to him, but he only narrowed his eyes at her.

"That's it?" He stood quickly and crossed the room in a single step, blocking Levane from the door. "Leaving so soon?" Levane froze, her body inches from his. He leaned towards her, his arm extending towards her slim waist. She darted around him and grabbed his arm. She gripped it tightly and twisted it behind his back. Davies grunted in surprise and pain. With her free hand, Levane removed her small pistol from its holster, hidden beneath the fabric of her dress, and pressed the barrel delicately against Davies's neck.

"Mr. Davies, you are not in the position to take such liberties. I would advise you to refrain from doing so in the future." She pushed the gun harder into his flesh, eliciting an angry grunt and a short nod. "There's a lad," She hissed, pushing him towards his desk. She slipped through the door, gone before he could turn to face her.

Jim was seated in the living room when Levane arrived at the flat, his back turned to her. She stared at him a moment, watching him take a bite of his apple. His head tilted to the side.

"How was it?" Levane considered for a moment before answering.

"He wants a journalist killed and the information she has destroyed. I would say it was interesting." He nodded slowly.

"Do whatever you want with her, but bring me all of her files. Might be fun to play with Mr. Davies." He craned his neck to look at her, his eyes cold and dark. "Well, off you pop." Levane nodded. On her way through the kitchen, she rifled through the drawers until she found a book of matches. She stowed it in her dress pocket and made her way back onto the street.

Kitty Riley's flat was a cluttered mess of newspapers amongst flowered furniture and wallpaper. She let herself in, gun in hand, ready to fire. The flat was quiet, empty, and dark. Levane perused the assortment of newspapers, skimming the outdated headlines with bored interest. She crossed the room, stepping nimbly over the stacks of papers on the floor, and looked at the framed articles hanging from the wall. Levane smirked at the meager number of articles, all from obscure publications and bearing the journalist's name in bold. She skimmed the papers strewn across the sofa. The blurred faces on the front pages peered at her blankly. She squinted, one face in particular catching her eye. Her father stared back at her from several of the front pages, but a version of her father she had never seen. The headlines screamed at her, the red ink burning into her memory: "CRIME OF THE CENTURY?", "Amateur Detective to be Called as Expert Witness", "MORIARTY WALKS FREE". She lifted one from over two years ago and gazed curiously at the faces looking back at her: "Sherlock: The Shocking Truth – Close Friend Richard Brook Tells All". It was undoubtedly her father's face printed on the page, but he appeared completely different. His hair was unkempt and messy, his face unshaven, and his expression soft, almost vulnerable. Under the picture was the caption, "Richard Brook", in tiny black letters. He appeared on countless front pages in the room, staring back at her with lifeless eyes. Even more disconcerting was the second face, the one glaring at her from more angles than her father. Sherlock Holmes's face, haunted and unfeeling, was printed beneath headlines labeling him a genius, a fake, pitting him against Moriarty. The most scathing headlines were followed by Kitty Riley's initials and framed on the wall, boasting the cruel accusations and revelations. Levane laughed to herself. Her father certainly was one for theatrics. She remembered vague rumors about these chronicled events floating around Dublin, but no one much cared about what was happening in London.

The lock on the door clicked, and Levane jolted back to realty. Keeping her breathing quiet, she stepped into the shadows in the corner of the room. The door opened, and the lights clicked on. Her eyes downcast, Kitty dumped her purse and keys onto the sofa and locked the door behind her. She turned and scanned her home. Her eyes flitted about aimlessly, and finally rested on Levane. Kitty froze and the color drained from her face. Her mouth gaped open. Levane tapped her finger on the barrel of her gun.

"Do not speak," She said sharply. Kitty's eyes flicked to the pistol in Levane's hand, then back to her face. She closed her mouth slowly. Levane stepped forward and rested a hand on Kitty's shoulder, peering into her terrified eyes.

"Show me where your information on Mr. Davies is." Kitty glared at her, but remained rooted in place. "Don't be stupid, Kitty Riley," Levane whispered. She shoved Kitty into the wall, jolting her off balance. "Give it to me, or I will paint pictures of you with your own blood on the wall."

"Its in my bag," Kitty whimpered, pointing at the sofa. "There!" She winced in pain. Levane glanced over her shoulder. She pulled Kitty forward.

"Get it for me." Kitty stumbled to the sofa and dropped to her knees. She rifled through her bag and produced a black memory stick. Levane snatched it from her outstretched hand and gripped it tightly.

"Are you going to kill me?" Her voice shook, but was more accusatory than fearful. Levane looked at her quizzically.

"Of course I am," She scoffed. "But first, I want you to tell me about Richard Brook." Kitty frowned in confusion.

"Don't you read the papers? Richard Brook wasn't real." Her voice wavered angrily. "Did you come here to mock me as well?" Levane frowned.

"What do you mean, he wasn't real?"

"Richard Brook was Jim Moriarty. He came to me, pretending to be some actor Sherlock Holmes hired to play his master villain." A tear fell down her cheek. "I thought he was real, but he manipulated me to get to Sherlock. Richard Brook isn't real."

"I see." Levane glanced at a photo of Sherlock Holmes above the sofa.

"I could help you," Kitty begged, dripping with desperation. "I could help you get away from him, just let me write your story!" Levane frowned.

"No." She raised her pistol. "Jim Moriarty sends his regards." Kitty opened her mouth to scream, but was silenced as the gun fired, shooting a hole through her heart. She fell limp against the sofa, blood soaking through her shirt. Levane looked at the limp form thoughtfully, squeezing the memory stick in her hand. She pulled the matchbox from her pocket. She lit one without looking away from Kitty's dying eyes, and tossed it onto a pile of newspapers. Levane watched the fire spread for a few moments before switching off the light and leaving the flat, as though she had only been on a friendly call.


End file.
